Page 11 of To Love the Stars too Fondly

With it came a dick pic.

At least the store didn’t actually have cameras facing the counter. I studied the phallic image, trying to determine its owner. Probably Chase. He wasn’t too awful. Only if you can pick me up.

Whoring myself out for a ride home wasn’t the worst deal.

Won’t have my roommate’s car til around 10. I’ll keep you posted.

Well, the joke was on me for hoping.

At 8:15, rain pattered against the roof. Summer storms were common, but biking home in the rain was cold and miserable. Damn Chase for not owning a damn car. Why did only losers seem to give a shit about me?

At 8:30, I started the closing process, mopping the floors to the sound of my own humming to the radio until the gentle chime of the front door caused me to freeze.

But it was Alex.

The resident heiress looked annoyingly handsome in her AC/DC t-shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off her impressive biceps and tattoos, her black jeans torn but perfectly tailored to highlight her thighs and bubble butt. Damn her fuckboy smile; damn how flustered it made me.

“Hey, Princess,” Alex said.

There she was, hot as hell, while I, as always, wore my stupid uniform.

…When had I started admitting she was hot as hell?

Well, she wouldn’t have the upper hand. I grinned for show and asked, “Do you even listen to AC/DC?”

“Should I hum the main riff of Thunderstruck to prove it?”

Damn her for being so amiable. My laugh came so naturally; the first since yesterday. I set the mop aside. “Triple shot black coffee?”

“Not this late. Surprise me. I want to see what you make best.”

“Oh, you’ll be disappointed by my lack of creativity, but I’ll try.” I washed my hands in the sink behind the counter. “There’s a reason I’m usually at the register.”

“I take it being a barista isn’t the dream job?”

“It’s the ‘keeps me off the streets’ job. Are there any flavors you hate?”

Alex shook her head. I started up a fresh shot of espresso. Maybe a chicory latte. Not too sweet; not too strong for the late hour.

“I realized,” Alex said, “that I’d told you yesterday to call me but never left you my number.” She placed a business card on the counter and slid it over. “He hasn’t tried anything, right?”

I took the card, immediately noting the matte texture. “He—” I needed to say something, but that picture…. Alex couldn’t see it. Alex couldn’t know. “He texted me. Just said I’d humiliated him, that’s all.”

Alex nodded, cold contemplation plain on her handsome features. “And you didn’t reply, right?”

“No.”

“Good. Makes it easier for the lawyers, assuming it comes to that.” Alex frowned slightly. “Are you all alone here?”

“Just me and the beans.”

“Are you afraid of creeps?”

“You mean like creeps who ask if I’m here all alone?”

At Alex’s scoffing laugh, I managed to smile. “All right,” she replied. “That’s on me.”

“There’s a panic button under the counter if anything goes wrong. Barbs keeps trying to convince the owner to install actual cameras instead of just a fake”—I pointed to the camera on the back ceiling, facing the door—“but he thinks it’s a waste.”